


Before I Go

by Kay_kat



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Chloe KNOWS, Devil Face (Lucifer TV), F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Love Confessions, WIP, Whump, Wings, a lot of fluff, now a wip, post 3x24
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2020-04-24 19:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19179883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kay_kat/pseuds/Kay_kat
Summary: Chloe finally knows— finally believes the one thing that he’s been telling her since the beginning. That he is the Devil. By some miracle they’d worked past it and picked up where they’d left off, solving crimes together and maintaining a loosely defined and somewhat confusing personal relationship.He’d told her a lot of things since she found out, only... there is still one thing that he hasn’t told her that weighs on him every time he sees her beautiful face. It threatens to slip from his lips every time she rolls her eyes at one of his puns. The feelings that had bloomed that night on the balcony.So, when he ends up trapped under a building, with Chloe by his side as he struggles to hold on, will the feelings he’s been keeping inside finally spill free?He’s not sure he can go without telling her.





	1. There's Something I Want You To Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ManuHerz79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManuHerz79/gifts).



> First of all, happy birthday to my good friend and all round amazing, kind and caring person, Manu! Hope you've had a great day sweetie! <3  
> Secondly, this comes to you from my sleep deprived brain which insists that we write at 3am instead of sleep. So, well... enjoy hopefully... *nervous laughter*

It’s funny, isn’t it? How one second can mean the difference between everyone going home safe and everything going to shit.

It all happens so fast.

A gunshot.

A button pressed.

A deafening explosion.

And then the world crumbles around her.

Well... not the entire world, but the building they are currently standing in.

The floor beneath her feet disappears and her stomach flip flops as she free falls before landing against not so solid ground. The world around her keeps shifting, ceasing to still as she desperately tries to get her bearings. To still herself in the seemingly ever twisting torrent of rubble and rocks.

Pain shoots through her as she tumbles. First her hip then her leg and finally her head before her world is plunged into true darkness.

 

She comes to slowly. Her head pounds hard as if there is something trapped inside, banging to get out.

Everything hurts.

Her eyes are dry and gritty, every breath she takes feels like she’s inhaling gravel. The hot, dry air is stifling as she tries to catch her breath and fails.

She can’t hear anything above the painful ringing that still resounds in her ears. The explosion had been so loud.

Carefully, she tries to pull herself up and out of the awkward position that she had ended up in. Rocks shift beneath her and a brief flash of panic overcomes her as she thinks what if the floor falls again. How steady is the structure now? Probably not very.

She reaches up, searching with tentative fingers above her and finds more rocks, rubble and rebars.

_Stay calm_ , she tells herself repeatedly. Words to cling onto like a life raft as she feels herself very almost drowning in a sea of panic.

She can’t see anything, the space is pitch black, though she can move about enough to tell that she must be in some sort of pocket. She has never prayed, not even since she found out the truth, but now… now she hopes and prays to anyone who is listening that the structure holds and help comes. Prays that she can see her daughter again.

Tears wet her dirty, dust covered cheeks. She quickly wipes them away with the back of her hand. Now isn’t the time.

She has to find her phone. Find her partner.

A pang of worry pierces her heart, the sudden bubble of anxiety making her feel sick to her stomach.

_Lucifer._

He’d been stood closer to the explosion than she had. She didn’t see what happened to him. She couldn’t even tell what had happened to herself. The floor collapsed… perhaps they’d fallen into some kind of basement, the building coming down on top of them. All that debris precariously balanced above them. The thought sends her heart fluttering into a fitful state.

She pushes it as far down in her mind as possible. She has no control over that, there’s no use in worrying about it. Right now, she just needs to find Lucifer and make sure he’s okay.

He will be okay right? He’s the Devil, of course he will.

“Lucifer?” she calls out, her voice cracked but still full of hope.

No reply comes.

Only silence.

Her heart thuds hard against her sternum. He _is_ okay. He has to be.

She manages to get onto her hands and knees and, manoeuvring herself by touch alone, she starts to slowly navigate her way through the rubble.

“Lucifer?” she calls again, still hopeful.

Silence is the only answer she receives.

Her heart squeezes painfully as reality sets in. What if she can’t find him? What if he isn’t okay? It’d have to be a miracle to find him under all this….

And then there is hope.

“’Tective?” a raspy, mumbled groan echoes in the darkness.

“Lucifer!” she cries out, grimacing a little when the thought of an avalanche type scenario crosses her mind. “Where are you?” she asks, more quietly this time.

There’s a pause and over the ringing in her ears she can just hear the rubble crinkling and another grumble as if he’s feeling around his surroundings.

“How the… b-bloody _Hell_ am I ‘spose to k-know?” he mumbles. The way he struggles to talk makes her heart rate spike. Is he hurt or just disoriented?

“Are you….” She swallows hard, dreading asking the question for fear of the answer. “Are you hurt?”

More lingering silence follows. She strains against it, trying to hear him.

“Lucifer?” she asks again when no response comes. Hopefully he’s still conscious. _And not hurt too badly_ her mind adds.

Because if he’s hurt… well, it’s her fault isn’t it? She makes him vulnerable. Every time he’d gotten hurt over the course of their partnership had been _her_ fault. The guilt of that weighs heavy on her every second of every day. If something were to happen to him now….

_Get it together, Decker._

She shakes the thought, focusing on the task at hand. She has to get to him. She has to check if he’s okay and maybe somehow, they can work their way out of this mess _together_.

Moving in the vague direction that his voice had come from, she hopes she’s getting closer to him.

“’Tective,” his voice comes again, quieter but closer than before. This time she can hear the ragged breaths which accompany his voice.

So, she crawls to him with only his voice and his rasping breaths to guide her.

Something wet and warm and sticky covers her hands, soaking into the fabric of her jeans. Not water. Oil maybe?

It doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting to him.

“Lucifer?” she whispers again into the pitch black void, as if speaking too loud might bring the precariously balanced rubble down on their heads.

There’s silence at first. Her heart jumps into her throat. And then she hears it, a soft spluttery cough and, “Here, ‘tective.”

Relief floods her and she soldiers on, crawling towards the sound of his voice, ignoring the sharp rocks and debris that stick painfully into her palms as she does.

Eventually she reaches out with feeling fingers and meets soft, squishy warmth.

“Lucifer?” she asks again, trying to picture in her head just what she’s touching. She spreads her fingers and feels the prickle of short, coarse hairs tickle her skin.

He hums. A deep sound that resonates from his chest and settles in her soul. “Right... here,” he says, sounding wheezy and slightly out of breath. The dust maybe? “Please... stop poking me... in t’ face,” he mumbles.

_Right._ His face. That’s what she can feel. His deftly cultivated stubble beneath her fingers and his cheek, warm and soft against her palm.

She quickly pulls away, slightly embarrassed at her actions. At least he can’t see her cheeks flush in the darkness.

“Are you hurt?” She fumbles around him and eventually her hand finds his. She squeezes it tight in her grasp.

“Hard t’ say,” he replies sluggishly. Maybe he hit his head?

They need light. “Do you still have your phone?” she asks. Hers is gone. Probably buried under this rubble like everything else including them.

His hand pulls away from hers and she’s left feeling oddly bereft before there’s some shuffling and a cold metal object is clumsily thrust into the back of her hand. His phone.

Perfect.

She feels around the edges of the phone and finds the unlock button.

The harsh, electric light that floods the small space is almost blinding and she has to squint against it. She blinks several times, adjusting herself to the newfound brightness and looks down at her hands.

She’s horrified to see them red, slick and covered in what she can only assume is blood.

She gasps and turns the light towards where she thinks Lucifer is only to find herself unable to breathe when she finds him. He’s lying on his back. Blood coats his face and hands. His once white shirt is now soaked a crimson hue that blossoms from the steel rebar rod that protrudes from his middle.

 

~

 

“Oh God, Lucifer!” she exclaims. He can just see her in the low, electric light that illuminates the small space around them. Her eyes widen, her beautiful face creases in worry. Worry for _him_. Worry that he doesn’t deserve. Not from her.

He inhales sharply, wincing at the pain that pierces his chest. “Q-Quite the… oxym…m-moron there, ‘tective,” he manages to get out.

She ignores his quip and instead slowly moves towards him, her hands outstretched, her lips parted. He flinches when her hands make contact with his middle. Maybe because of the pain or maybe because it’s unexpected. Maybe both.

Casual touches are few and far between since she… _saw_ him. Not like they used to be.

Her fingers ghost the steel rebar that cuts right through him, as if touching it with any less care might make the pain worse.

He’s not sure the pain can be worse. Only once before had he had the displeasure to be impaled and it was not something he’d ever thought himself likely to be trying again.

Her eyes meet his, crystal clear blue glistening at him in the low light. “If we get this out and I get away from you, you’ll be fine right?” she asks, desperation seeping into her tone.

“You can’t….” He tries to catch his breath only to find himself wincing against a sudden lancing pain in his chest once more. “You can’t g-go. ‘Sss dangerous.”

“Lucifer, I’ll be fine. You….” Her gaze flickers over him again. “Look, I _need_ to get away from you.”

She starts to move but he reaches out, grabbing her wrist with slick fingers, effectively halting her. Her wide blue eyes meet his and hold his gaze. “Lucifer….”

“Jus’ s-stay,” he rasps. “Please.”

“Okay.” She nods, settling back down beside him and taking his hand in hers. “I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to get out of here. You’re going to be fine.”

He doesn’t reply, just watches as she fumbles with his phone, squinting against the brightness as she taps away. “The signal keeps coming and going, I can’t send a message, but hopefully they should be able to track it.” She squeezes his hand tighter. His heart feels funny… tingly. Must be the blood loss. “You just need to hang on, okay?”

He nods feebly.

 

They sit like that for… he doesn’t know how long. The pain is agonising. His eyelids feel heavy. The temptation just to close them and allow himself to drift away is strong, but he doesn’t. For her.

It does give him time to think though. About… them.

He can see how much blood there is. _Feel_ the life slowly draining out of him. He knows that he isn’t going to make it. That he’s going back _there_. This is his last chance to tell her what he hasn’t been able to work up the courage to since she found out.

Of course, there are lots of things he’d never told her. Things that if she knew she might run from him, or maybe towards him.

The one thing he had told her right from the start, the thing that had taken her two years to believe, had almost tore them apart for good.

Almost.

They are both strong though. Eventually they’d gotten past it. Moved on. Worked together again.

Only... there is still one thing that he hasn’t told her that weighs on him every time he sees her beautiful face. It threatens to slip from his lips every time she rolls her eyes at one of his puns. The feelings that had bloomed that night on the balcony. Then when she saw and still accepted him, they had only multiplied to the point where he could no longer ignore them.

He’s not sure he can go without telling her.

“Chl... Chloe,” he manages, before a spluttery cough wracks his frame sending pulses of pain through him. “Before I go, there’s something I want you to know.”

“No,” she says firmly, “you’re not going anywhere, Lucifer. You’re staying right here.”

He commends her effort, he really does. She pushes all her weight down onto his middle as if by force of her sheer will she can halt his bleeding out.

“Chloe,” he says again, softly, reverently, as if it were a prayer upon his lips. The world swirls around him. Dizziness seeps into his mind. Black dots cloud his vision. But he holds on, if only for a few more seconds because he has to tell her. He _has_ to.

“I love you.”

And then he fades away into oblivion.

 

~

 

Piercing white light penetrates his eyelids sending sharp pains through his skull. Intrusive beeping sounds blare in his ears, further aggravating his headache.

A groan slips from his lips as he tries to move and is hit with a wave of agony originating in his middle.

“Hey,” a soft, familiar voice comes. “Take it easy alright?”

A hand touches his cheek, gentle and caring.

It takes his muddled brain a moment to put it together.

_Chloe_.

But he should be… he shouldn’t be alive. How had they…?

He tries to push himself up but her hand presses against his chest, stopping him. He groans again and cracks his eyelids open a fraction. The light is very almost blinding, but he can just make out the sharp relief of her jawline, her golden locks and glistening eyes standing over him.

“Chloe,” he says, his voice gravelly.

“Look who’s not dead,” she jokes playfully with a smile that could surely light the stars themselves. It feels like his heart skips a beat at the sight of it.

“I-I don’t…” he tries, frowning but, finds that hurts as well. Everything hurts. He glances down to see that the rebar no longer remains lodged inside him.

The room he’s in is sterile white, barely furnished with only a chair beside his bed. Hospital then…. “What happened?”

She sighs and reaches out, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it gently. “After you passed out, I really thought that we were never going to get out of there. I thought that—” she chokes on her words, squeezes his hand and swallows hard before continuing, “I thought that I was going to lose you, Lucifer.”

He can hear the fear in her voice. She was really scared of losing him?

“But then, I guess I was right, and they tracked your phone because before long I heard voices. They got us out. I couldn’t really stop them from taking you to the hospital so, yeah… here we are.”

He notes that her clothes are still bloody and covered in dust, though her skin is relatively clean.

“They took you into surgery, so I stayed… I, um… I wasn’t sure what would happen if I left while they were….” She gestures vaguely to his bandaged wrapped torso. “I was about to leave actually. You know, so you can heal properly.”

She releases his hand, much to his dismay and walks towards the door.

“I suppose I should be going then. You need to rest.”

Panic bubbles within him. He’s sure he told her before he’d passed out, or maybe he’d just hallucinated from the blood loss?

Either way he can’t stand not knowing. “Detective, wait.”

She stops at the door and turns to him, a soft smile on her lips. “Yeah?”

“About…” he tries to start, but finds his throat suddenly feels too tight. “About what I said before—”

Her smile widens, dazzling him with her beauty even after everything she’s been through today. She is _divine._

“That’s okay Lucifer, you don’t need to explain yourself.”

He sighs in relief that she isn’t mad at him for what he’d said.

She flashes a grin at him and adds, “I love you too,” stopping for only a moment before walking out the door, leaving him stunned.

She _loves_ him?

She loves _him!_

“Detective! Wait!” he calls after her, but she’s already gone.


	2. What Are You Doing Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe thinks about what she said at the hospital whilst Lucifer just can't seem to stay away.

Chloe sits, staring down at the paperwork in front of her. She hasn’t touched it in… _a while,_ instead just sitting there and staring into space.

After the explosion, she was put on temporary leave and shouldn’t even be doing any work at all, but she’s never been one to relax. She can’t just switch off her cop brain; in fact, she’s not even sure if she _has_ a switch. If she did it certainly must have broken a long, long time ago. Nay, she can never seem to fully quell the ceaseless chatter, the all but unstoppable train of thought, that makes her so good at her job.

But now, she can’t seem to focus on the task at hand. The swirling thoughts inside her head are just _too_ much.

She just can’t seem to stop going over everything that had happened in the past day. What he’d said and what she had said in turn just hours before.

It’s all true though.

Maybe it’s time that they finally accept it. God knows it’s taken them long enough.

He loves her and she loves him. As complicated as their relationship is, she knows that to be true.

She’s just not sure what either of them want to do about it.

What _can_ they do about it?

She makes him _vulnerable._ His life is in danger by just being around her. He’s gotten hurt on multiple occasions _because of her._

How can they ever truly be anything knowing that?

She sighs and scrubs a hand over her face. Why can nothing ever be easy for her?

Everything always has to be so complicated. Right now, she just wants to be at the hospital with Lucifer and she can’t even do that….

She hopes he’s doing okay. He’s probably doing better already, now that she’s left him. She can imagine him making a nuisance of himself, flirting with… well, everything that moves.

Yeah, he’s probably fine. She has nothing to worry about.

He’s—

A thump comes at the door, abruptly cutting off her train of thought, followed by a very weary sounding, “Detective!”

— He’s at her door?

She quickly rises, scurrying over to the door to unlock it as the knocking… no, not knocking… _thumping_ continues. It’s like he’s slapping the palm of his hand against it.

“Lucifer!” she cries as she pulls the door open to find him leaning heavily against the frame, one hand clutching his stomach.

He looks out of breath, clammy and slightly too pale. His clothes, the usual black suit and white shirt, sans the waistcoat, are clean but dishevelled. Too many buttons are undone at his collar and he’s skipped a couple further down. His hair’s an unruly mess, the dark curls falling onto his forehead and only serving to make his skin look even paler in contrast.

“What are you doing here?!” she asks, grabbing his free arm which had been against the door and tugging him inside the apartment. “You should be at the hospital! You know,” she gestures vaguely to him, eyes wide, “ _resting.”_

He can’t have healed already can he? It’s only been a couple of hours and judging by his state, he looks anything but.

She lets go of his arm and he wobbles slightly on the spot as he comes to a stop.

He scoffs, waving a dismissive hand in the air as he tries and fails to indicate that he’s fine. “Bloody sick of that awful place,” he says breathlessly, still clutching at his side, hunched over just slightly. “The drugs were sub-par and the dosages were pitiful.”

She frowns. “Lucifer—”

“I know, I know,” he continues, waving his hand and huffing out another laborious breath, “terrible, isn’t it? You’d think they’d have the best, stingy bastards.”

“Lucifer.” She steps forward, placing a hand on his arm, hoping to dispel some of the nervous energy that radiates from him and get some answers. “What are you doing here?”

He falters. His face softening, his eyes meeting hers. “Well, I….” He swallows thickly, a sudden tremor shaking his voice. He tilts his head to one side, his lips parting slightly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said, and I, uh, I just…” he trails off, grimacing slightly.

She notices the way his fingers tighten slightly where he’s holding his shirt and his shoulder become suddenly tense.

He huffs, a pained expression flickering over his features. “Truthfully, I’m not really sure why I’m here—”

“Take off your shirt,” she sharply cuts him off.

His mouth falls open. “I beg your pardon?” he asks, somewhat startled by her sudden request, which seems odd for someone who literally never misses an opportunity to get naked in public.

“Take off your shirt,” she repeats firmly.

A grin tugs at his lips, his expression transforming from shock to sultry in mere seconds. “Why, Detective,” he purrs, a little weaker than his usual flirtations, “I didn’t think you’d be quite so eager.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes, rapidly stepping into his space, her hands reaching out to push his jacket over his shoulders.

“Oof!” His eyes sparkle with a mischievous gleam as she presses her hands against the thin fabric of his shirt. She can feel the heat that radiates from him even through the bandages that wrap around his torso. “Not quite the foreplay I was expecting but—”

“Shut up and take your damn shirt off, Lucifer, you’re bleeding!” she exclaims, putting a stop to his… suggestions.

His mouth hangs open, brows furrowing as he looks down at his stomach where red slowly seeps through the white cotton. “Oh, bloody hell, another shirt ruined!”

She huffs a sceptical laugh finding it hard to believe that his shirt is what he cares about right now. “Come here,” she says, tugging his arm to guide him over to the couch. He seems stunned into silence, his mouth slightly open, and follows her without another word. She has to push him slightly to get him to sit down and gently begins to coax his jacket off. “Take your shirt off,” she asks again, softer this time.

He nods and begins to undo his buttons as she retrieves the first aid kit from the kitchen. When she comes back to him, the buttons are undone and he’s stiffly trying to manoeuvre the shirt from his arms, like it pains him to move too much.

She grabs the shirt and slides it off his arms before carefully draping it over the arm of the sofa and crouching down in front of him. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes sparkle with appreciation at the much-needed assistance.

From this angle she gets a much better view of his middle. Red stains the bandages on his left side. Why would he come here and hurt himself like this? “What were you thinking, Lucifer? You should’ve stayed in the hospital, away from me until this healed.”

He doesn’t say anything and as she looks up at him, he averts his gaze and shifts uncomfortably. “I’m going to have a look, alright?”

He nods almost imperceptibly and allows her to carefully remove the bandages with the scissors from the first aid kit. Peeling away the gauze reveals a bloody mess beneath. It looks like a lot of the stitches that had previously held the wound shut are torn. Blood oozes out, smearing his skin.

“Right, I’m taking you back to the hospital,” she tells him decisively. He may be the Devil, but he’s in no condition to be up and about just yet, especially not around her.

“No!” he protests, jerking forward before flinching at the sudden movement. “No,” he repeats more quietly. “I’m fine really.”

She gives him a stern look. “You’re obviously _not_ fine, Lucifer. What were you thinking coming here?”

There’s a moment of tense silence. He clasps his hands together in his lap and stares down at them. “I didn’t want to stay in that bloody awful place,” he grumbles.

Taking a breath, she tries not to get annoyed by his so very obvious half-truth. It’s clear he’s processing something, but getting him to tell her his true reasoning seems like a mammoth task. Whether it’s inherent stubbornness or just a lack in ability to communicate his feelings, she’s not sure. The one thing she knows is that getting the full truth out of him is like trying to spot a shooting star. You can try as hard as you want, look for hours on end until your neck feels like it’s about to break and still not see one. If it’s not just the right moment, you can find yourself missing opportunity after opportunity.

She places her hands gently on his knee. “But why come here?” she asks simply. He could’ve easily gone to Lux and been fine, but instead he came here, putting himself in danger with his mortality again. “Why come here when you know I _hurt_ you, Lucifer?”

He suddenly looks up at that, his dark eyes full of concern as they meet hers. “You don’t hurt me.”

“I make you _mortal!_ ” she cries out in exasperation, sick and tired of these games that they’ve been playing. “I’m making you bleed, _right now_.” She gestures to his open wound. “So tell me, Lucifer. Why?”

He remains quiet for too long, fidgeting with the ring on his finger and seemingly doing everything he can to avoid looking directly at her.

“Right, that’s it.” She rises quickly, grabbing his jacket from the couch. “I’m taking you back to the hospital. Come on.”

“No! Wait.” His dark eyes meet hers as a desperate plea slips from his lips. “Please.”

She remains standing, folds her arms and waits for him to continue.

After a beat he does. “It doesn’t matter that you make me mortal. I don’t care about that.”

“Why?” she asks, softer than she intended.

“You’re special, Chloe. I would give up anything just to be allowed to remain beside you. Even my immortality. And, well…” he falters slightly, a discernible wobble in his voice, before continuing, “I meant what I said before and I wanted to know….” He looks up at her, dark eyes wide, a fathomless pit into which she finds herself falling deeper and deeper. “Did you mean it?”

She sits down beside him, perching on the edge of the couch and reaches out to cover his hand with hers. “Of course I meant it, Lucifer.” She takes a breath, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth.

“But I thought….” He frowns, tilting his head to one side. “Lately we’ve been… I thought that….” He shakes his head. She can’t help but smile at his loss for words.

Squeezing his hand, she inches closer to him. “I know I didn’t handle it well when I found out about who you really are and I’m sorry for that. It was just… _a lot_ to process, you know? I was confused and I didn’t know what to do so I stayed away.”

“Because you were scared of me,” he states it like a fact, something he knows to be the absolute truth.

Only it isn’t.

“No.” She shakes her head firmly. “No, Lucifer, I was never scared of you. It was the fact that I _wasn’t_ scared of you that terrified me.” His eyes widen a fraction. “My feelings for you never changed and I didn’t know what to do with that. I went from not believing in all that biblical stuff to knowing that the Devil is real and that…” she trails off, taking a breath before continuing, “that I love him.”

Silence hangs heavy between them for a moment. Neither even dare to take a breath before she adds, “I love _you,_ Lucifer.”

His face softens. “Is that the truth?”

“Always,” she replies without missing a beat. Leaning into him, she wraps her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair. He’s tense beneath her, like he always is when she touches him without warning.

Before she’d found out, she thought that this, the way he responds to any sort of physical contact, how he stiffens uncomfortably at the slightest touch, was ingrained into him after suffering a horrible upbringing that no one should have to go through. Now she knows the full story the truth is all the more horrific. He was mistreated by his family and kicked out of his home, sent to be punished— to be alone— for an unfathomable amount of time.

It’s no wonder he struggles with any sort of care or affection towards him. He’s forgotten that people can care without having ulterior motives, or maybe he never knew in the first place. Maybe his family were _that_ bad. If his mother was anything to go by then she supposes the latter is more likely.

Well, not anymore. She cares for him and it’s time to show that. There are still problems between them, but right now, in this moment, they are closer than they have been in weeks.

Maybe now they can finally start to move forward.

First though, she needs to get him back to the hospital before he bleeds out on her couch. “Lucifer,” she says softly as she pulls away, “you need to go back to the hospital.”

“No.” He shakes his head vehemently. “I don’t want to go back there. Please.” She stands which seems to agitate him as he rapidly continues, perking up and flinching slightly at the movement. “Look!” He gestures to the wound in his middle. “It’s _barely_ bleeding. I’m fine! Really!”

She sighs, sitting back down on the couch beside him. The hopeful look in his eyes makes her heart ache. He really wants to stay despite the fact that just being here is hurting him. “Lucifer,” she says, taking his face in her hand, his stubble tickling the sensitive skin of her palm, “being here is hurting you. I can’t stand being the one the one responsible for that. I know you don’t like it but—”

“Chloe,” he breathes, the word a prayer on his lips, said with such emotion that it makes her heart flutter wildly in her chest. “Being away from you causes me greater pain than any wound ever could. Please, I just….” He averts his gaze as if embarrassed. After a long moment of what must be him fighting with his inner turmoil he finally continues, “I just want to be close to you. Just for a little while.”

How can she deny him that? In all her years knowing Lucifer, she’s learned that for a man so hellbent on fulfilling other’s desires, he almost never says what _he_ desires. What _he_ wants.

“Okay,” she replies firmly. His eyes light up with joy, pure and unfiltered, the likes of which she so rarely sees on his face. “On one condition.”

His eyebrows creep upwards. “Making a deal with the Devil? I approve.” He grins at her. It’s a little half-hearted as she notices him clutching his side a little tighter, obviously trying to conceal the amount of pain he’s in.

“Uh-huh. You can stay here, but,” she raises her index finger, “you have to rest, and do as I tell you. _And_ , if I think you’re getting worse I’m taking you back to the hospital. Got it?”

He mock salutes with two fingers that are now slick with his blood. “Yes ma’am!”

“And don’t call me ma’am.”

It’s all pretty easy after that. Her sewing skills aren’t the best and the stiches she replaces don’t exactly look pretty, but they get the job done. He assures her that it won’t scar which makes her feel a little bit better about it. She fishes out the pain meds from the back of the medicine cabinet, the ones that were left over from when she’d been shot, and gives him two. He complains about the dosage, but quickly falls back into quietly grumbling to himself when she reminds him of their deal.

After that she helps him up the stairs. That’s a bit of a struggle given the significant height difference between them and the amount he leans on her. They get there eventually though.

She gets him undressed and he makes his usual quips about them sleeping together but she can tell his heart isn’t really in it. He looks weary, like he might collapse and so she gets him stripped down until all that he wears is his boxers and the bandages she’d wrapped around his middle and shuffles him into bed.

His eyes flutter closed as soon as his head hits the pillow and only then does she realise how tired she is. She’s battered and bruised and just exhausted, and has yet to get a proper night’s sleep after spending most of the previous night at the hospital.

She eyes him for a moment. He looks so innocent in sleep, so much younger than he normally looks. It might be the first time she’s seen him fully relaxed. No barriers, no walls, just Lucifer.

Lifting the covers, she quietly slides into bed next to him, unsure if he’s already asleep. She jumps a little when his eyes suddenly snap open.

“Detective,” he mumbles, the word slightly slurred, “what are you…?”

“Do you mind?” She moves closer to him, gesturing to wrap her arms around him.

“No,” he says gruffly, like he can’t believe what is happening. “No, not at all. In fact, I’d quite like it.”

So, she snuggles into his side, careful to avoid his wound. He lifts his arm over her head and wraps it around her, encompassing her in his warmth. Her fingers tangle in his hair as if of their own volition as she buries her face in the crook of his neck. She inhales deeply, feeling herself drift on the boundary between sleep and wakefulness. Beneath the hint of antiseptic that clings to his skin, he smells faintly of smoke and whiskey and just… _him._

There’s no place she’d rather be than in his arms.

It feels right.

For the first time in weeks she feels like she is home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! For now this is staying like this, but I do have ideas to possibly carry it on in the future so let me know if that's something you'd like to see! For now I'm working on a couple of longer fics, for people who have read my stuff I've got a sequel to Supernova almost finished and after that will be starting on an AU which I am very excited about :D
> 
> Anyhow, as always, thank you all for reading and commenting, you are all awesome <3 Have a great weekend!


	3. All of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe reflects upon her developing relationship with Lucifer and tries her best to show him that she truly does accept him for who he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did originally intend to leave this as just the first two chapter but then I got ideas of how I might continue it and this happened. So I'm officially changing this into a WIP. The tags aren't likely to change too drastically as I plan to keep the same themes throughout (fluffy fluff fluff fluff), though I shall make sure to warn in the chapter notes if the tags do change for whatever reason. 
> 
> Anyhow... I hope you enjoy! <3

She wakes slowly, meandering in and out of her peaceful slumber. Various aches and pains rouse her from sleep and her head feels heavy, but as she continues to lie there, she finds herself unable to care too much.

For once she has nothing to do. No work, no Trixie. Just time to take it easy. She intends to do just that.

Pulling the covers closer to her, she basks in the warmth that they provide. Revelling in the comfort of being in her own bed and not having anywhere to be. So rarely does she ever get the chance to just… _unwind._

Sighing, long and deep, she turns over, sinking into her pillow. Her fingers reach out, exploring the space beside her, searching for further comfort.

Searching for him.

And she knows this is probably inappropriate. Whatever _this_ is. This… _thing_ that _has been_ blooming between her and Lucifer for a long time now.

They work together. They are partners.

But they also care deeply for one another. Have _feelings_ for each other.

Now that said feelings are out in the open, they can’t possibly ignore them. Can they?

No, they can’t. And, if she’s completely honest with herself, she doesn’t want to. She _wants_ to see where this goes. To see what they can be together.

She wants to because she _loves_ him, and he loves _her_.

She wants to be happy, and for once in her life it feels like she has an actual shot at that.

When her hand meets nothing but the cool space beside her, she reaches further, her movements growing more frantic before she finally gives and opens her eyes, fully emerging from that blissful state between wakefulness and sleep.

The space beside her is empty, but she can feel a lingering heat which tells her he had been here not so long ago. Pulling herself up and squinting against the golden rays of light that filter through the curtains, she glances around the room.

“Lucifer?” she mumbles, voice still groggy from sleep. She rubs her hand over her face, trying to wake herself up properly. Maybe he’s in the bathroom? But no, she notices as she takes in the room that his clothes are gone.

Worry sets in. He should be resting. He gave his word, didn’t he?

He can’t have gone far, she silently reassures herself as she slides out of bed. Then again, maybe he’s gone back to Lux… maybe what he said about wanting to be close to her was just… _what?_ Just a spur of the moment thing? Something that he didn’t mean as seriously as she thought he did.

He just seemed so adamant about staying with her. Would he just _leave_ without saying goodbye after all that?

No. She refuses to believe it. He has before though, hasn’t he? Her heart squeezes painfully in her chest as she recalls that night, when she had been so hopeful only to be crushed by the sight of an empty penthouse and furniture covered with white sheets.

But it’s different this time, isn’t it? She knows now. There’s no need for him to _protect_ her anymore. And they… they have something _more_ this time, don’t they?

Pushing down the plethora of questions that bubble up inside her, she shakes her head. She can’t allow herself to get like this— to be left _heart-broken_ by him. Not again.

When she opens the door and starts to make her way downstairs, the smell that hits her in the face is enough to quell most of her immediate worry.

The mouth-watering aroma of bacon drifts through the air, teasing her nose. From the top of the steps, she can just hear it happily sizzling away.

She rubs her eyes, frowning as she ambles down the stairs. “Lucifer?” she calls out as she reaches the bottom of the steps and peers into the kitchen.

“Detective!” He startles at her voice, spinning on his heel to face her. Various ingredients lay on the kitchen counter around him. As she approaches, she spots the bacon in the frying pan accompanied by sunny side eggs and neighboured by sausages in a smaller pan. Tomato halves lay in wait beside the cooker, ready to be fried she assumes.

Lucifer stands there, frozen to the spot, a knife in his hand and a sheepish look on his face. Mushrooms sit on the chopping board. He must’ve been cutting them.

He fidgets a little as she eyes the scene before her.

“Lucifer… what _are_ you doing? You should be resting!” she exclaims, rounding the counter to get a better look at him. He still looks a bit pale and he doesn’t stand quite straight, hunching over with one hand unconsciously holding his side. “If you were hungry you should have woken me up.”

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing along the smooth line of his throat, before he plasters a nervous smile on his face. “I… um, well… I thought that….”

She raises an eyebrow at him, silently telling him to spit it out.

Clearing his throat, he shifts awkwardly on the spot as he places the knife down on the counter. “I thought that I might,” he shrugs a little, clearly embarrassed, “make _you_ breakfast.”

Her gaze falls to the tray that sits on the island counter, the one that Trix uses to bring her breakfast in bed on Mother’s Day. A single plate with a single steaming cup of coffee sits atop it.

He was making her breakfast in bed? She feels her heart suddenly swell with love for him, her Devil who can be so unimaginably sweet at the most seemingly random moments.

She feels tears prickle her eyes as a watery smile tugs at her lips.

Clearing his throat, he continues to shift on the spot, suddenly looking rather embarrassed. “I mean— you know,” he waves his hand in the air, “to say thank you. For… well, allowing me to stay and for—"

He stops abruptly as she closes the space between them in three easy steps. “You don’t need to say thank you, Lucifer,” she says softly, before wrapping her arms loosely around his middle and leaning her head against his shoulder. “I care about you. Of course I want to make sure you’re alright.” She pulls away just enough to gaze into the depths of his soulful brown eyes.

His lips part slightly, the adorable crease between his eyebrows deepening just a little. He’s still tense beneath her, like he’s in some state of shock that he can’t quite shake.

“I _want_ to be there for you if you need me. It’s just…” she reaches up, gently pulling her fingers across his stubbled cheek, “it’s difficult. I know you’re hurting because of me and despite what you said, I still feel guilty for that. I just want to make sure you’re happy.” She pauses, before adding, “You know you can tell me if you’re not happy, don’t you?”

“Chloe,” he breathes her name as if it’s something sacred upon his lips, “I don’t deserve you.”

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her close to him and leans down to bury his face in the crook of her neck.

She melts into it, closing her eyes and basking in the embrace. Revelling in his rare display of vulnerability. “Yes. You do,” she whispers into his wrinkled shirt. Once again that feeling blossoms in her chest, the feeling that she is _home_ and that, for once, everything is right in her little bubble. “I know you feel like you need to be better, but I’m telling you, you are a _good_ man.” Pulling away, she looks him in the eyes. “You _are_ worthy.”

His breath catches in his throat.

“You just need to start believing it,” she adds quietly, knowing that it isn’t that easy— that it will _never_ be that easy. Not when he’s been told for… _what?_ Centuries? Millenia? That he’s the cause of every bad thing that has ever happened. That every heinous act ever committed by humans has been done in _his_ name.

That he’s _evil_.

He’s always been so adamant that he isn’t, and _she_ knows that’s true, but she thinks that at some point along the way, he forgot. That he started to believe the things they say about him. That somewhere deep down, he blames himself for all of it.

That’s why he thinks so little of himself. Why he thinks he has to _earn_ her affections or give her something in return. It’s always a quid pro quo because he doesn’t deem himself worthy of getting anything for nothing.

Or at least that’s her theory.

And with three words, he all but confirms it.

“No,” he says, his tone suddenly ice cold, like he’s already emotionally retreating, “I’m not.”

Slipping away from him, she quickly turns the stove off. She can feel his gaze tracing her movements as she does. When she turns back to him, he’s just stood staring as if he’s trying to figure out what she’s doing.

She reaches out, taking his hand in hers and squeezes it lightly as she guides him towards the couch. She sits down and he stands there, watching her and looking a little bit lost. “Sit down,” she tells him, patting the cushion beside her.

He does as she says, awkwardly perching on the edge of the couch.

“I know you’re not going to believe me when I say this, but I’m going to say it anyway and I want you to listen to me,” she starts, giving him a pointed look to tell him that she’s serious.

He just stares for a moment, eyes twinkling with a certain sadness that she’s sure he only ever lets _her_ see, and then reluctantly nods, a small and uncertain motion.

Shuffling a little closer to him, she takes his hand again, resting them both on her knee and tracing her fingers over the lines in his palm as she contemplates what exactly she’s going to say. His fingers twitch as she follows his life line and then stops, settling her hand in his and bringing her gaze back up to meet his eyes.

“You _deserve_ to be happy,” she says resolutely. “I know you don’t think that’s true, but _it is._ ” She pauses, before continuing more softly, “You don’t allow yourself to be happy, but you should.”

He swallows, his brows furrowing slightly as he listens. “But I—”

“No,” she interrupts, reaching out to touch his cheek. “Just listen. You may have everyone else fooled with your confidence and your dazzling smiles, but not me. I see you Lucifer. The real you. I see you when you think that no one is looking. You smile a lot, but I can see that you’re just hiding. Just trying to pretend. Well I’m telling you that you don’t need to pretend with me. You don’t need to try to be anyone you’re not because,” she halts, taking a steadying breath and blinking back the tears that suddenly prickle her eyes. “You are _beautiful_ ,” she presses her palm to the space above his heart, “in here. I know you like people to think that you don’t care, but I can see that you do. You really care about getting justice for all our victims. And don’t tell me that you only punish people because you’re good at it because I know you well enough by now to know that’s not true.”

He blinks, his eyes shining in the light. A single tear spills down his cheek.

“What I’m trying to say is,” she continues, desperately trying to keep the wobble out of her voice, “you _are_ a good man and I know you’ve had it rough, but you don’t need to be so hard on yourself. You’re so much better than you give yourself credit for and my heart aches for you because you deserve to be able to see that for yourself.”

Her lip trembles, the weight of the words that have been brewing within her for some time now leaving her makes her feel lighter somehow. Anxiety stirs within her as she awaits his reaction. She hopes that someone else truly seeing him will light a spark of acceptance within him.

“I-I…” he trails off, swallowing thickly. “I can’t,” he finally manages.

She feels her heart sink as he shakes his head, pain saturating his features. He looks so much like he wants to be able to, but he just can’t or maybe he doesn’t know how. The thought breaks her heart.

“I-I’ve done things… things that I can’t forgive myself for,” he says shakily, something haunted in those dark eyes of his. “I’m a monster, Chloe.”

“No, you’re not,” she states, because he isn’t. Not really. History has made him out to be a monster, but he isn’t. He’s been forced to do bad things, to deal with the worst that humanity has to offer. He didn’t want to do it, as he’s said so many times before.

A monster doesn’t feel guilty or blame himself for that which he has no control over.

“You’re not a monster,” she repeats, hoping against all odds to make a dent in his clear self-loathing. “I love you.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, turning his head away from her. “No. I know you think you do, but you don’t.” He cracks his eyes open slightly, as if only just daring to look at her directly. “You love this,” he gestures to his handsome face which is twisted with such sadness that it hurts her to her very core. “I’m more than this. I know the other part of me scares you.” He laughs, an unhappy, rueful sound. “Hell, just a mere glimpse is enough to drive a person insane.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, he shakes his head once again. “No one can love that. Not even me.”

“Show me,” she says without missing a beat. Yes, she’s seen his face once before and she’d run, but it was a mistake. It wasn’t him that had scared her, it was the undeniable proof of everything she’d never believed in staring her right in the face. It was realising that everything she thought she knew was wrong. Realising that she loves the _actual_ Devil.

Running had hurt him, more than she could have understood at the time. If she could take it back, she would in a heartbeat, but she can’t.

She can only do her best to mend the damage that she’s done.

He blinks several times in quick succession causing another silent tear to trickle down his cheek. “No, I-I can’t….” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” she replies. “I promise. Please, Lucifer.”

For a long moment, he is silent. Uncertainty fills his features. She sure there’s some internal struggle going on deep within. That part of him that can’t say ‘no’ whenever she asks something of him battling with the part of him that wants to remain hidden. “A-are you sure?”

She smiles softly. “Yes, I’m sure. You don’t scare me, Lucifer.”

“Alright.” He takes a breath as if steeling himself for the worst.

It happens instantaneously. His pink human skin disappearing before her eyes, giving way to the red, charred flesh beneath.

The sight seems to steal the air from her lungs, leaving her breathless. She’d seen him like this before, but at a distance.

Now, close up, she can see the horrific details all too clearly. The deep gouges that mar his burnt features…. How could his Father do this to him? How could anyone do anything like this to their own child? The thought turns her stomach and her heart bleeds for Lucifer.

His irises flicker, alight with hellfire, but all she sees is fear in them. Fear of being rejected again.

Well that’s not going to happen this time.

She reaches out, her fingers brushing against the rough surface of his face. It’s only a light touch at first as she’s suddenly hit by the sickening thought that this _hurts_ him. “Does it… _hurt?”_ she asks, unable to tear her eyes away from the scarred valleys of his face.

He seems to pull away from her touch slightly, averting his gaze. “No… not really,” he answers in a voice which sounds far too small for him.

With that she allows herself to press her palm to his cheek. His heat seeps into her skin, far hotter than his human face feels.

She can still feel the tension he holds, the expectation he has that she’s going to run holding him tight in its grip. So, she does the only thing she can think of to show him he’s wrong.

Leaning forward, she presses her lips to his. It’s chaste, yet so filled with passion. In so many ways it’s different from the previous kisses they’ve shared, not just the feel of his rough lips against hers, but the feel of him being completely open with her. Baring his vulnerability for her to see.

It’s still him though. The man that she knows— that she _loves._

Her fingers roam over the craggy landscape of his face, trailing down his neck and up the back of his hairless head. She presses deeper, revelling in the taste of him. The salty hint of bacon still lingering on his lips.

His eyes flutter shut as she leans into him further, gently guiding his forehead to rest against hers as their lips part.

Their short, shallow breaths mingle in the small space between them. He cracks his eyes open, letting her see once again into the dancing depths of the fire that occupies them. Staring into them, she finds herself mesmerised by the hypnotic movements.

“Oh, Lucifer…” she breathes, brushing her fingers across his cheek as she pulls away. “I’m not afraid of you. I _love_ you. _All_ of you.”

He stares in stunned silence for a long moment. Red eyes boring into hers, unblinking. “Chloe, I—” He starts. Now she’s not so stunned she hears the slight difference in his voice, the way he says her name. It’s just a little bit deeper, a little bit rougher— _rawer_ than it usually is.

Then his face changes back to the smooth human one that she’s so used to. It’s so fast her eyes can’t trace what actually happens, it just… _appears,_ seemingly from nowhere.

Tears well in his deep brown eyes, dripping down his cheeks when he blinks, leaving wet trails that shine in the light in their wake.

She reaches out, her thumb brushing the tears away. “You don’t have to say anything, I just need you to believe me when I tell you that,” she says, her thumb stroking his cheek.

Suddenly he leans into her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. She feels his tears wet her neck, soaking into the material of her shirt, making her skin a little bit sticky, but she doesn’t say anything. She tangles her fingers in his dark, unruly hair as she holds him close against her.

“I do,” he suddenly whispers, a tremor shaking his voice. She hears him sniffle and looks down only to miss what happens next. He does a funny little movement and out of nowhere comes a gust of wind before she’s surrounded by a wall of white.

At first, she isn’t sure what has happened. She blinks a few times, trying to adjust her eyes to the new light that surrounds her. And then the wall moves— _rustles_ , moving in closer around her and she realises.

 _Wings_.

He actually has wings and they’re surrounding her— _hugging_ her.

She’d suspected he had, but she couldn’t imagine their beauty, the warmth of the light they seem to radiate.

They are truly divine.

Wrapping her arms tighter around him, she holds him close to her, never wanting to let go.

She loves him so much. All of him.

The Devil, the angel and the man.


	4. Like... a Date?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer asks a difficult question, Chloe gets an unexpected visitor, and Linda gets a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back, I do apologise for my absence recently, sadly life has kept me from writing, but I'm back! Hopefully will be updating this more regularly from now on. For now enjoy some more fluff <3

“Lucifer?” she mumbles into his shirt.

She’s still cocooned in glorious, pristine white. Some kind of… _warmth_ seeps into her, leaving her with a feeling that she can only describe as _divine._ That was something he’d neglected to mention when she’d found out he was the Devil.

Of course, she’d read about him and she’d thought that maybe, just maybe, he did have wings— it certainly explained some of the crazy things she thought she’d seen that day in the loft.

For some reason though, it’s only just sinking in. The actual reality of it is so much more difficult to comprehend. He’s an angel and he has actual, honest to _God,_ wings.

His feathers rustle as he pulls away just slightly to look at her. His eyes red rimmed and glistening. “Yes?”

“You have wings,” she states.

His brows furrow adorably. “I… do,” he replies slowly. He throws a cautious look over his shoulder, as if making sure for himself that they are really there before looking back to her. “Apologies,” he murmurs, voice still a little raw. He clears his throat and presses his lips into a wan smile that trembles ever so slightly. “Bloody things have a mind of their own sometimes.”

Her attention isn’t quite on him though as she’d suddenly hit with a barrage of memories, of every time he’d ever mentioned his wings. In the beginning, she’d thought it some kind of joke, another part of the elaborate Devil façade that he hid behind.

She’s aware of him shifting in his seat, his weak smile now disappeared, his lips forming a somewhat unhappy line. “Sorry, I know they can be… _distracting_.” He pauses and she can feel his eyes on her, studying her reaction maybe? Pulling away from her, he makes like he’s going to shrug his shoulders and adds, “It can easily be remedied.”

“No,” she says suddenly, placing her hand on his forearm, immediately halting his movements, his feathers ruffling before stilling as they catch up to him. “Leave them. Please.”

She might have thought twice about asking him so forcefully had she not found herself transfixed on the giant feathery appendages so ungracefully cramped in her living room, which now, seems relatively small in comparison. Her mind briefly wanders, trying to imagine how they might look completely outstretched before she forces her attention back to the matter at hand.

“Why didn’t you show me sooner?” she asks suddenly, her thoughts once again racing with all this new information.

He frowns before asking, “Would it have changed the way you reacted?”

“I…” she trails off, swallowing hard. She likes to think the answer to that question is no, but she just doesn’t know. It wasn’t him she was scared of, but the idea of being in love with _the_ Devil and all the implications that came with that. “I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

He shrugs a little. She notes how his wings move with him, the feathers ruffling just slightly at his movement. “Well then, it doesn’t matter, does it?” He takes an unsteady breath as he straightens, widening the gap between them. An uneasy silence lingers in the air as his gaze falls to where his hands lay on his thighs.

“Truthfully,” he finally continues, “I wasn’t sure that I still had them after I ki—” He breaks off, taking another shaking breath. She reaches out, placing her hand on top of his, stilling his nervous little movements and silently telling him that he can say whatever he needs to. “After what happened with Cain.”

Her breath hitches, ghosting over her slightly parted lips as she remembers that day. As she remembers how he _protected_ her. What he sacrificed for her.

“My brother had this theory.” He stops for a moment, gaze still fixed firmly on both their hands. “I thought it was absurd at first. Just a load of…” his lips curve downwards as he shakes his head, “ _hopeful nonsense_ he was telling himself because he was desperate to prove to himself that he hadn’t disappointed Dad. But…” he finally looks up to her and lets out a rueful scoff before suddenly throwing his hands out to his sides in one jerky motion, “I proved him right.”

His lip trembles as he averts his gaze from her and falls silent. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it, or maybe he thinks he _can’t._ Not with her at least. She doesn’t want it to be like that anymore.

She doesn’t understand what he means, but she wants to. He killed someone and she knows that no matter the circumstances, even if it’s kill or be killed, it is still a horrible thing to have to do. Not only had he that to deal with, but the guilt of driving her away as well. The pain he must have felt not knowing whether he would ever see her again.

For once she wants to help him instead of causing him more anguish. She wants to treat him like she should have treated him so many times before instead of pushing him away to protect herself.

She wants to show him that she loves him, no matter what he’s going through. And for him to know that he can confide in her. Fully this time. No hiding behind half-truths or skirting around anything even remotely divine in nature.

Full, open honesty.

Because that’s what partners do. Have each other’s backs.

“Lucifer,” she says gently. His gaze lifts, only just meeting hers, but she can still see the tears that well in his eyes, making them glisten in the light. “You can talk to me about anything. You know that, don’t you?”

“I….” He sighs heftily. “Amenadiel thought that _we_ control our own fates, not Father. That we,” his lips curve into a nasty, unhappy frown, “get what we think we deserve. When I killed Cain… that was the moment my Devil face returned. I—” His voice cracks and he swallows hard before he’s finally able to say it.

“I felt like a monster.”

Silence hangs heavy in the air between them as she tries to process the full gravity of his words. Now she sees it all with such perfect clarity. It just seems so… obvious. How had she not seen it before?

“You _still_ feel like a monster,” she breathes the words, barely a whisper.

His lips quiver. His red-rimmed eyes well with tears but none fall. He averts his gaze. Embarrassed— no, _ashamed_. Ashamed of the monster that he thinks he is.

She reaches out, pressing her palm to his cheek, his neatly trimmed stubble prickling her palm, and gently guides him to look at her.

He nods against her, a small, unsure movement. For all the words he usually has, now he has none. He’s afraid to admit the truth that he has avoided for so long.

“You’re not a monster,” she says softly, “not to me.”

The ghost of a wan, watery smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, his soulful eyes glistening as he looks at her like she’s given him the moon. “That’s just it,” he says slowly, his voice raw with emotion. He swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs along the smooth line of his throat. “You’re special, Chloe. You make me feel like I can be _better._ ”

For a moment, he pauses and silence fills the space around them. She can feel his hands tensing beneath hers as he steels himself for whatever he’s about to say.

“I _want_ to be better.”

Silence hangs in the air for a moment that seems to stretch for eternity, tense anticipation coiling between them like a guitar string stretched within an inch of its breaking point.

“I just don’t know how.”

_Snap._

It’s soul-shatteringly heart-breaking. She just wants to bundle him up in her arms and never let go.

She very nearly leaps forward, flinging her arms around his neck, her fingers brushing against the impossibly soft feathers that protrude from his shoulder blades, He tenses up, shocked by the sudden contact, his wings ruffling as if even they are surprised. It’s not long before he melts in her embrace, his hands quietly creeping around her, holding her just a little more firmly against him. His posture relaxing until his cheek presses against her hair, his hot breath ghosting the top of her ear.

It’s heart-breaking that he can’t see what she sees. That the long life he’s lived, full of suffering and rejection, has blinded him to the light that resides within his soul. But, it’s also a step in the right direction.

Maybe only a baby step, but a step, nonetheless.

And besides, the amount of emotional trauma he has isn’t something that just goes away overnight. It takes time and commitment… and support from the people that love you.

It occurs to her now that maybe this is the first time he’s ever really had that.

She silently vows to keep it that way.

They stay like that for… she doesn’t know how long. It feels like neither of them want the embrace to end, but it inevitably does. He shifts a little, the movement rippling and seemingly growing as it moves along his wingspan, and then he clears his throat. The tight hold that he’d had on her loosens and he pulls away, leaving her feeling bereft.

He averts his gaze. His tongue darts out to wet his lips; a nervous little tick that she’s seen him do from time to time.

Unable to help herself, she smiles fondly at the unsureness he resonates. It’s such a contrast to the usual shining confidence he radiates for all the world to see. It’s… adorable even.

A tiny voice inside her head muses what it would be like to wake up next to that face, to have something… _steady_ with him.

And that begs the question, where do they go from here? She doesn’t want to push him, but _this_ , whatever they have right now, feels… good— _right._ It feels right. It feels like the barriers that have been between them for all these years are finally coming down. Do they explore that? Pursue a relationship?

Is Lucifer even capable of being in a healthy relationship? Does he even _want_ to be?

They need to talk about it, but she knows how skittish he can be when it comes to confronting his emotions.

“Lucifer,” she starts softly, “where do we go from here?”

She risks the question anyway, her urge to finally get some sort of clarity on the issue too overwhelming not to.

His brow creases. “I suppose I ought to finish breakfast before the eggs are _completely_ ruined.” He makes to stand up, but she catches his hand before he can get anywhere causing him to look back at her in shock.

“That’s not what I mean, Lucifer,” she says, an amused little smile on her lips because of course he didn’t understand what she meant. “I mean where do we go with _us?”_

“Oh.” He frowns. “Well…” he starts before trailing off for a moment, seemingly to compose his thoughts, “I’d like to continue working by your side. If you’ll have me, of course,” he adds the last part more hesitantly.

The fond smile on her lips grows slightly at that. “Of course I want to keep working with you, but Lucifer, I meant more… well, about our… _personal_ relationship.”

She waits expectantly but is met with nothing other than his blank stare. He blinks once, slowly, then again. His lips part, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he closes it again. The expression that creases his features can be described as nothing other than absolute befuddlement.

It’s both adorable and infuriating. But what did she expect really?

“Our… _personal_ relationship?” he parrots, clearly still not following her, despite her best efforts.

She nods, her small smile still there, hopeful that he will still figure it out for himself.

“We’re….” He hesitates. She smiles and finds herself nodding as if that will encourage him to continue. The urge to reach out and once again take his hand in hers overwhelms her, but she resists, not wanting to push him into anything until she knows where they stand. “We’re friends… I think.”

It’s a miracle that she manages to stop the strangled cry that builds in her throat from escaping past her lips. “Lucifer?”

“Yes?”

“I love you, but you can be a complete dumbass sometimes,” she states plainly.

His eyebrows raise at that as if offended by her statement, but he doesn’t seem to have a smartass retort. _For once_.

Placing her hands on his forearms, she waits a moment, looking deep into his entirely too emotive eyes. “You’re my best friend. Despite everything that’s happened between us, that’s never not been true. But we kissed and that’s… well it’s… it’s kind of a big deal to me.” She can’t help the way her throat constricts painfully as her next words form in her mind. “If it’s not to you… that’s okay. I just… I need to know where we stand.”

And she knows that she’s doing it again. Setting herself up to be hurt just as she’s done so many times before. How can she not do this now though? After everything they’ve said to each other. She knows that if she lets this slip through her fingers, she will regret it for the rest of her life. Even if it means getting hurt.

She needs to know once and for all.

“But we… we’ve kissed before and you didn’t… I mean, nothing came of it, so I thought that… well… that’s not what you wanted.” He eventually manages to stumble through the sentence, uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

Maybe she shouldn’t have brought this up now. He _is_ injured and this is clearly stressing him out. But they’ve started… can’t exactly stop now, can they?

“Those other times…” _on the beach, on the balcony, “_ I… _hoped_ that they would go somewhere, but… we never got the chance to.” If it wasn’t her being poisoned and him running off to Vegas, it was her finding out that he’s the _actual Devil_ and having a minor existential crisis. “Now we do have a chance. I think I want to take it.”

The next words that haphazardly tumble out of his mouth confuse her for a moment.

“I think— I mean, I would like, if you’re agreeable of course to… um,” he trails off, taking a steadying breath before swallowing hard. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?” he finally manages.

Now she’s the one staring back in confused silence it seems. Oh, how the tables turn. “Like… a _date?_ ” she finds herself asking almost automatically.

Something akin to panic seems to settle into his features for one fleeting moment before he very expertly contains it. “Yes. A date. With me.”

“Yes!” she exclaims, a beaming smile spreading like a wildfire across her face. The feeling of ecstasy and warmth that blooms within her heart in that moment reassures her that she’s doing the right thing. They deserve a chance. A proper one. “On one condition.”

The lopsided smile that is plastered on his face fades for a moment.

“You need to rest. We aren’t going anywhere until you’re healed up. Alright?”

He sighs dramatically but can’t seem to stop the smile from spreading across his handsome face. “ _Fine.”_

“Okay then, it’s settled. You lie down, I’m going to finish breakfast.” She stands up and for a moment she just smiles at him. His almost goofy smile, his mused hair and ruffled wings make quite the picture.

She can’t help running her fingers through the soft feathers again as she navigates her way around his wings and towards the kitchen.

This is her life now and she wouldn’t change any of it for anything.

 

~

 

She manages to salvage the breakfast that Lucifer had started to make and they eat. Neither has much to say but it’s far from awkward. More than anything it feels… _companionable._

Afterwards, she checks his stitches. They seem, against all odds, to be holding well, especially considering how inexperienced she is and how much he’s moved about.

And then, as per their agreement, she makes him lie down on the couch. He protests, albeit weakly, but still does as she asks. It’s the right decision because almost as soon as his head hits the pillow he is softly snoozing.

She can’t help but take a moment to admire him as he sleeps. He just looks so young, so much less burdened than he does when he’s awake.

She wonders what he dreams about— if he _has_ dreams. Home— _Heaven_? His family? She knows she’s dreamt about him on more than one occasion. Does he ever dream about her?

Or is he haunted by the darkness in his past? She hates to even think about it but what are the chances that he sleeps peacefully given all he’s been through. _Hell_ , even she has nightmares filled with things she’s seen on the job and that can only be child’s play in comparison to what he’s seen.

She sighs. Her eyes lingering on him a moment longer, her fingers twitching as she resists the urge to run her fingers through his tousled mess of jet-black hair. Now more than ever she can see that he deserves someone to love him, needs it even.

Grabbing the soft plush throw that hangs over the back of the couch, she carefully covers him. She tucks him in, unable to resist gently smoothing her hand over his shoulder as she does.

When she’s satisfied, she leaves him in peace, taking her tablet and a fresh cup of coffee before settling herself at the breakfast bar. She quickly finds herself bored. Her cases have been handed over to Dan, so she has no work to do and aimlessly scrolling through her own, very limited social media doesn’t keep her occupied for long.

Soon she finds herself monitoring Trixie’s social media. On some level she wishes that it wasn’t the norm for pre-teens to have _Iphones_ and _Instagram_ accounts, but sadly this is the world they live in. At least it isn’t too difficult for her to keep an eye on, privacy settings help with that. It’s mostly just friends from school, Ella and Lucifer. Trixie had begged to follow Maze but after a quick look at the demon’s account, Chloe had quickly come to the conclusion that it is _definitely not_ child friendly.

Lucifer’s surprisingly, mainly consists of pictures of himself. Without really thinking about it, she finds herself at his profile and scrolling through the many, _many_ selfies that occupy it. Some are with other people, at Lux mostly, but she only finds her eyes on him.

His impeccable suits hardly ever repeat. The coloured shirts he pairs them with always accented with a matching pocket square, neatly folded in a huge variety of wonderful ways.

She lingers on one of him leaning by the bar at Lux, the picture obviously taken by someone else when he wasn’t aware. His jacket has been discarded, the sleeves of his pristine white shirt are rolled up to his elbows exposing his well-muscled forearms. The waistcoat that he wears is grey with a shiny purple back. She’s seen him in it before and secretly has a fondness for it. An unruly strand of hair has escaped its styling and hangs down onto his forehead.

He stares off into the distance, a smile upon his face. He looks _relaxed_. It’s a state she doesn’t see him in very often.

She finds herself smiling at the picture and continues to scroll until another catches her eye.

It’s _her._

They’re at the beach. The sun is setting behind them, golden light illuminating their figures. She doesn’t seem to be paying much attention, her gaze trained on something off camera. Her expression is neutral, her eyes hidden by her sunglasses. But Lucifer… he’s looking at her, eyes shining, a gentle smile upon his lips.

_When even was this?_

She scrolls down to see the caption. It’s reposted from Ella almost a year ago. No text accompanies it save for a heart eyes emoji.

Her heart does a funny little flip inside her chest. Something about seeing the way he looks at her when she’s not looking is—

Her train of thought is broken when a knock comes at the door. She closes the page on her tablet so quickly anyone would have thought she was doing something wrong. She wasn’t. Totally not stalking anyone’s social media. _At all._

She gets up, sheepishly shoving her tablet to the side and quickly glances at Lucifer. He’s still asleep, that’s good at least.

She briefly wonders who could be at the door. Not Dan or Maze…. The only way to know for certain is to open it and find out. So, she does just that.

Almost as soon as she opens the door, she finds herself pushed aside as none other than her _mother_ enters the apartment, strutting in like she owns the place. Which she most certainly does not.

But still, what the Hell is she doing here?

“Mom?”

Her mom stops in her tracks and turns to her, a surprised look on her face as though she’s shocked at not being more warmly welcomed, even when she’s showing up out of the blue for the first time in _months._

Chloe quietly clicks the door shut behind her. Her mouth still hangs open in disbelief as her mom stands in the middle of the room, one elbow resting on her hip as she studies the place critically with a raised eyebrow.

“What are you doing here?” she asks before remembering that Lucifer is asleep on the couch and that she should probably keep her voice down.

Her mom follows her gaze and her face instantly morphs into something akin to scandalization but more pleased. She’s about to open her mouth to say something when Chloe grabs her arm and all but drags her towards the kitchen.

“What? Can’t a mother drop by to see her daughter?” Penelope exclaims, over dramatically, _as always._ She does her best to peer into the living room. “Besides, I heard you were in some sort of…” she makes a face, gesturing theatrically in the air, “accident and I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

_Oh._ Well that’s oddly reasonable considering her mom hadn’t even called when she’d been _shot at_ a few weeks ago.

Penelope turns her attention away from the sleeping Lucifer to stare intensely into Chloe’s eyes with that piercingly sharp gaze. “Is that _okay_ with you?” she asks, oozing irritation like she’s the one being inconvenienced here.

“Yeah.” Chloe folds her arms across her chest, nodding as she chews on her lip. “Yeah, I mean, I just wish you’d given me some notice.” She throws her hand out gesturing towards the living room. “I’ve just got company so I’d appreciate it if you could keep your voice down.”

Following Chloe’s gaze, Penelope hums. “Of course. Is that Lucifer?”

Chloe swallows, continuing to chew on her lip as though her life depends on it. Of course her mom chooses this exact moment to waltz back into her life. “Um… yeah.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s a little banged up, but yeah,” she finds herself nodding again, “he’s okay.”

“And are you two… _you know_ ….” Her mom waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

Chloe could just _die._ Two hours. Two _freaking hours_ and already she has people sticking their noses in. “No, not y— I mean… it’s complicated.”

Penelope rolls her eyes. “Isn’t it always with you.” She turns away from Chloe and starts to make herself a coffee. “You know Chloe, you have all these great guys around you and, lets be honest,” she throws a look over her shoulder, pursing her lips before continuing, “you’re not getting any younger.”

She’d be annoyed by the comment if it came from anyone other than her mother. The woman who gives her “advice” and then goes around acting like an overgrown child. It’s just not worth the argument, so Chloe bites her tongue.

“And you know it’s not fair to Lucifer to keep stringing him along, I mean the man must have—”

“I am not _‘stringing him along’,”_ Chloe huffs, unable to keep a hold of her tongue it seems. Maybe it’s the insinuation that she’s treating Lucifer like her own or maybe it’s because deep down there may be a little bit of truth to the words. Well, not anymore. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re actually going on a date.”

Penelope throws her hands up in the air, the expression that crosses her face is the closest thing to Joy that Chloe has ever seen from the woman. “ _Finally!”_ She pulls Chloe in for a hug and murmurs, “ _Took you long enough_ ,” by her ear.

_Gee thanks_.

Chloe gives her a tight-lipped smile as she’s released from her hold. It was probably a mistake to tell her mom.

Penelope grabs her hand, pulling her towards the dining table in an excited little flurry. “You _have_ to tell me everything.”

Yep. Definitely a mistake.

 

It isn’t actually _so_ bad, talking with her mom. She obviously doesn’t give her all the celestial details, but she tells her the gist of it. Explaining her way around why exactly she’d avoided him for a while is difficult, but she manages to get by giving only the barest details.

It makes her smile thinking about how she’s doing exactly what Lucifer does. Telling not quite the whole truth, but not lying.

Talking to someone— _actually talking_ feels so good though. If she’s honest, it’s the closest she’s felt to her mom in quite a long time. She’s almost disappointed when she says she better get going.

They say goodbye at the door, the thought to invite her mom over for dinner sometime flutters into the forefront of her brain, but she doesn’t voice the idea. Not yet. Maybe soon, once life has gotten back to whatever goes for normal these days.

She finds ways to busy herself for the rest of the day, laundry mostly, glad that Lucifer is getting some decent rest. When Lucifer wakes up, the sun is just slipping below the horizon and the last rays of golden light filter in through the blinds illuminating specks of dust that dance in the air.

“Hey,” she says softly, perching on the edge of the sofa.

He pulls himself into a sitting position and runs one hand through his, now very messy, hair. His cheeks are flushed, and he still looks like he hasn’t quite woken up properly. She can’t help but giggle at the state of him.

He narrows his eyes at her before grinning playfully.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, the smile still playing on her lips.

A puff of air escapes him as he frees himself from the fluffy blanket and gently probes at his middle with his fingers. “Quite a bit better, I think,” he says before breaking out into a yawn which he covers with his fist.

She’s not sure she ever recalls seeing him yawn before.

“Good.” She can’t keep the smile from her face, she just feels happier than she has done in some time. “Coffee?” He looks like he could use it.

He grumbles as he throws his legs over the side of the couch and scrubs a hand over his face. “Coffee would be _marvellous,_ darling.”

She goes to grab him a mug, forgoing making one for herself due to the time, and he meets her at the breakfast bar. He sits and leans on both elbows, rubbing his face with his hands again.

“Thank you,” he says as she slides a full mug across the counter to him.

“That’s okay.”

It’s quiet as he enjoys his coffee. He mostly seems to stare down into the swirling brown depths of it. She wonders what he’s thinking about. All she can think of is how much she loves him.

“Dan should be dropping Trixie off soon,” she tells him, as if just making conversation. Lucifer hums noncommittally. “Do you want to stay for dinner?” she adds a little more sheepishly.

He looks up from his coffee.

“You can stay the night if you want to.” She feels a bit embarrassed asking, but truthfully, she likes having him here. She wants to wake up to his face in the morning. “I know Trixie will be here but—”

“I appreciate the offer,” he grimaces, looking down at his horribly wrinkled shirt, “I think I best get going. I could use a shower and a change of clothes.”

_Oh._ Disappointment blossoms in her chest. She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up, she knows that, this wasn’t going to last forever. “Okay, yeah.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening though?” he asks, his face hopeful. “For dinner?”

Suddenly she doesn’t feel so disappointed. “Yeah,” she smiles, “of course!” She’s mostly excited, a little nervous, but only for good reasons.

His smile widens, dazzling her with his perfect rows of pearly white teeth. “Brilliant!” He drains the last of his coffee and stands up, stretching his back. “It’s a date!”

“It is,” she smiles fondly as she rounds the counter, stopping a foot away from him. She wants to kiss him, but she’s not sure if she should. Not yet anyway.

Lucifer stands, his gaze drops to the floor and he fidgets awkwardly.

Her fingers twitch.

She has to do something.

Stepping forward, she throws her arms around his neck. He freezes, as he always does, and then melts into it. His hands come up around her, encompassing her in his warmth. She rests her head against his shoulder and mumbles, “I can’t wait,” into his shirt.

He doesn’t say anything back, so she just stands there, listening to his deep, even breaths.

They part, neither seems to want to, but they do.

Lucifer moves awkwardly towards the door. “I’ll text you the details,” he says with a nervous smile as he slips on his shoes and grabs his jacket off the hook.

She nods, watching as he opens the door. He walks outside, but stops halfway, turning back one last time to look at her. “Goodbye Chloe,” he says.

“See you tomorrow,” she replies.

And then he leaves. A part of her wishes he was staying, the thought of having her bed all to herself feels wrong, but she knows she will see him tomorrow. The thought sends her through a flurry of emotions.

She has a date, _with Lucifer._

It feels like a dream.

In fact, she’s fairly certain she has dreamt about it.

 

~

 

Lucifer hadn’t wanted to leave Chloe’s last night, but he knew it was for the best. He had been in rather desperate need of a shower and a change of clothes. There were also preparations to be made for their dinner tonight. He has to make sure everything is perfect. He can see it all in his head, his first date with Chloe.

It’ll be magnificent.

There are some errands he needs to run, groceries to buy, flowers to pick, that sort of thing. But first… first he finds himself, for some inexplicable reason, driving towards Linda’s office.

He’s not exactly sure why, but, with all that’s happened, he’s overdue a session anyway.

 

“A date?” Linda leans forward in her seat, her professional persona briefly wavering before she composes herself. “With _Chloe?”_

He hums, nodding, a small smile tugging at his lips. It’s strange, this feeling that’s settled in his chest. He can’t quite describe it, but he feels… _good._

“That’s…” Linda hesitates. Something concerned flashes across her face before it disappears behind a well-constructed smile. “That’s great.” Her smile fades a little.

Despite her words, Lucifer senses something is wrong. Linda should be happy for him and yet he can see unease brewing within her. “It is…” he says slowly, his brow creasing as he tries to figure out what the doctor is seeing that he isn’t.

“ _But,_ ” she finally continues, “when I last saw you, you seemed to think that Chloe was still…” she gestures with both hands as she searches for the right word, “ _uncomfortable_ with your true self. So, what’s changed?”

_Ah!_ Lucifer grins and uncrosses his legs as he firmly plants his feet on the floor and leans forward. “We _talked,”_ he exclaims proudly, waving his index finger in the air.

Linda opens her mouth as if to make a point but doesn’t. She blinks at him. “You _talked?”_

“Yes!” He reaches over and begins to pour himself a glass of water. “You’re always saying how communication is key, Doctor, and well, I think you might be right.” He leans back, taking a sip from his glass. “We talked and Chloe said that she loves me. Granted I said it first, but we were in a bit of a… _tight spot._ ”

Linda blinks back her surprise. “You told Chloe you love her?”

He can’t help his smile widening when he thinks about it. He loves Chloe and Chloe loves _him._ “I did. And that’s not all.” His smile disappears as he prepares himself for what he needs to say next. Setting his glass down on the coffee table, he clears his throat, trying to lessen the tightness that suddenly overcomes him.

“When Chloe and I were talking, I came to realise something.” He pauses, composing the tremulous thoughts that stir within him. There’s a certain… _clarity_ to them that hadn’t been there before. “I haven’t felt good about myself in… a long time. I can’t help but blame myself for…” he shakes his head a little, “ _everything.”_

Linda listens intently. For a moment it looks like she might say something, but he carries on talking before she can.

“But I’m starting to feel— to _believe_ that maybe she’s right, that it doesn’t have to be that way.” He shifts in his seat, taking a steadying breath before continuing. “She told me that I’m a good man and that I don’t need to be so hard on myself. I’m not completely sure how true that is, but what I do know is that I want to be better. _Chloe_ makes me want to be better, but I think that, deep down, I want to be better for myself as well. You’ve both told me that I need to forgive myself.”

He pauses for one long moment, eyes falling to the floor. Silence lingers in the air and then he breaks it with nothing but a whisper, “The only trouble is I’m just not sure how.”

He looks up to meet Linda’s gaze. “I want to, but truthfully I’m struggling. There’s this… _darkness_ inside of me that’s been there for as long as I can remember and I’m worried that whatever light I might have had is gone for good.” He takes a breath. “What if I’m _incapable_ of being good?”

Lucifer watches as, without a word, Linda rises from her chair, walks around the table and takes a seat on the sofa next to him. “Lucifer,” she starts slowly, an expression that he can’t read on her face, “this is a big step.” She reaches out, resting her hand on his forearm. “I am _so_ proud of you for taking it.”

She smiles at him. He manages a weak smile back.

“You _are_ good, I know you are, but it’s okay to be unsure of yourself. These things take time.” His eyes follow her hand as she removes it from his arm. “We can work through it together.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” he manages, despite the tightness that still sits in his throat, “for everything.”

He feels better for having had the conversation, getting it all out makes him feel _lighter_ somehow.

Her smile widens causing his to do the same. “You’re welcome.” She leans in closer, turning slightly to face him better and then says, “Now tell me about this date with Chloe. I want to know everything.”

Rubbing his hands together, he grins. “Well….”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Follow me on Twitter if you fancy having a chat about Lucifer, Deckerstar or anything really [@kaykat666](https://twitter.com/kaykat666)


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